All Talk and No Trousers
by Beanka Juarez
Summary: She threw her hands up into the air and scoffed. "Just for once in your life, do something that you don't have to think about first! You've always been just talk and no trousers Malfoy, grow up and do something instead!" His voice was cold and emotionless, the perfect mask of apathy. "You want me to do something? The something I didn't do before?" Year Seven, EWE, DH compliant
1. Walls Come Down

Hullo everyone! This is my new story-my first multi-chapter on here! Yay! This one a few little snippets from a Year Seven Dramione relationship. No real plot or adventure or anything :D Hope you like it anyway! DH Compliant. Post-War. This story includes magic love potions, Aberforth Dumbledore, pensives and giant squids, guessing games, secret relationships and much more!

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Hours after the battle ended, while Harry was safely sleeping in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was wandering the halls, yearning to be alone. She passed piles of rubble and broken statues, remnants of her beloved castle; she tried not to think about how the only place in the Wizarding world she could call home was a home no longer. The minute she was fighting for her life between the ancient walls, something changed in her. She doubted she could ever feel safe in the castle again. Hermione was on edge, careful to watch out for undesirables roaming the halls. But there were none. They really had won, and Hermione couldn't even grasp the fact. After years of fighting and months on the run, how could it really be over?

It was slight rustling and a faint moan that caught Hermione's attention and snapped her out of her whirling thoughts. She turned to the noise, expecting to find someone following her down the hallway, but was met with a pair of feet hanging out from under a particularly large pile of debris. It was a wonder that whoever it was that lay under there was still alive.

The figure whimpered once more and Hermione jumped into action without worry if it was friend or foe. Whoever was trapped inside would be in no place to harm her after she got them out. She levitated all the most mammoth blocks off that she could without hurting the poor individual and placed them farther down the corridor. From the placing of the stone, it almost looked like it wasn't an accident that the rubble had plunged down upon the victim. From the dust that was still settling around the site, the shards looked fresh as well. Hermione wondered why she hadn't heard the falling stones. At the lessening of the weight on their body, Hermione saw the legs relax and faint whisper of thanks come up out of the last thin layer of wreckage that still lay on top of them.

Hermione used her hands to rid the person of the last few stones, not wanting her shaking wand arm to go awry and have a large stone fall on the already severely injured person. The more blocks she removed, the more familiar the man was to her. He, as she could tell now, was wearing all black and had expensive shoes on his feet. As she started removing the obstructions from about his face, she knew before she was done that it was the one-and-only teenage Death Eater Draco Malfoy. She had seen the way he and his parents had walked away and then huddled in the Great Hall, and she almost felt bad for Malfoy and his mother. Lucius Malfoy, the sodding git, could get ostracised and gaoled as much as possible for all she cared, she knew he deserved it, but something led her to believe that that maybe the rest of the Malfoy family wasn't all bad in the end. Wide of the mark and totally and completely misguided, but perhaps just that.

He was unconscious when she finally uncovered him fully, and she did not hesitate a second to conjure up a stretcher and levitate him to the Great Hall to be treated. Imagine how melodramatic it would be to have lived through the Second Wizarding War and Voldemort living in your own house and then keeling over because you were crushed by some rocks. If not for the spark of _something _Hermione felt in her at the sight of the prattish boy, she decided to help Malfoy just to prevent his family from more mock and scorn. To her, nobody deserved that.

A trio of strangled cries of relief accompanied her entrance to the Great Hall, both by Ron and a newly awakened Harry and a near hysterical Narcissa Malfoy. Apparently she hadn't been the only one to run off unnoticed and roam the corridors to see the aftermath.

She gently lowered Malfoy down on one of the tables and watched as Narcissa Malfoy collapsed on her son's chest. Madam Wainscott, a nurse helping Madam Pomfrey came and pushed her off, not unkindly, so that she could heal her son.

The mother immediately hopped up and turned to Hermione and enveloped her in a fierce hug, pulling away before she could reciprocate. While Hermione was surprised beyond belief that the regal woman could loose such iron composure as to embrace a muggleborn, Harry was not surprised. The Chosen One came up behind Hermione wearing a smug smile and murmured to her as he led her away by the elbow. "You know, anybody whose Mum can be so frantic about a momentary disappearance can't be _all that_ bad," Hermione stared at him warily, astonished that he could let go of such a heated rivalry in such a short period of time. He simply shrugged and muttered something about Malfoy not giving them away at the Manor and moved to go out of the Great Hall.

Hermione shifted to follow him, but not before snatching Ron by the sleeve; who, curiously enough, was looking at the pair of Malfoys like he had never truly looked at them before. Maybe a change of heart was due for all them concerning the pompous pureblood family. And maybe the War had done just that, made them all grow up and let go of the past, if only because the present was too important or terrible to look away from. Right before she left the Great Hall, she turned to look out over all the people inside. Her last harrowing sight before she stumbled out once more was the back of George as he covered up the profile of his other half with a starched, pure white sheet.

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Thanks for jumping on board! Review if you have something to say!

Stay classy!

-Beanka


	2. Train to Catch

Kind of a filler chapter, but it sets things in motion! It's also a bit longer, so there's that. Read and review!

AND HEY! I forgot a disclaimer in the first chapter, so here it is:

I don't own anything you recognise! Don't shank me!

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As the summer months passed and the inhabitants of the Wizarding world healed, the seventh years who had survived were all but begged to re-attend their last year at Hogwarts. Harry and Ron had already been accepted to the Auror programme at the Ministry of Magic, and were loath to return for more schooling, but with the assurances that they did not have to take their N.E.W.T.s, they agreed. Hermione for one, would have attended regardless, but was happy that they had decided to return with her. She was almost guaranteed a spot in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement once she was out of Hogwarts, so for once in her life, Hermione wasn't all that worried about finals at the end of the year. Sure she was going to do her best, but it wasn't even the end of the world if she didn't do perfect every time. When faced with the end of the world already, something like finals didn't strike as poignant of a chord in her heart. Maybe it was post-war trauma talking, or maybe it was something else, she didn't know. She liked it better that way—though she would gouge out her own eyes before she told anybody about it.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked, facing her and eyeing her worriedly.

"Yes, don't worry, just a little knackered." Hermione waved him off and continued along her way through King's Cross station to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Her and Ron's tentative relationship had all but collapsed after the end of the war, something Hermione had been suspecting. The week following the Battle of Hogwarts were blissful, she wouldn't deny it, but _something_ had come between them, something Hermione didn't quite know what it was. As the fire faded, it melted back into the relationship they had before the whole thing started, they were back to being best mates by July. And strangely enough, Hermione was okay with it. Maybe Ron took Lavender's death a little harder than she would have thought or maybe they just needed someone to hold on to during those hard months on the run, but whatever it was, they had both grown up some during the past year, and Hermione neither regretted the relationship itself nor its hasty dénouement.

As they passed through the wall and onto the platform, Hermione was hit with a sudden realisation and nostalgia. This was the last time she would be boarding the train. She was almost done. She was almost a full adult, if the months spent running from the Snatchers didn't already do it for her. She glanced around at the crowd before her on the stone walkway in front of the cherry red Hogwarts Express. She saw diminutive groups of sullen seventh year repeats, much like Harry and Ron, and she saw a fresh new batch of first years. There weren't as many as Hermione would have hoped, but she guessed that many parents had kept their children at home so as to recuperate in relative peace and isolation. There were many people who were still mourning, Hermione was still grieving herself, and she did not judge them for it. The war had affected everyone somehow.

Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny met up in their usual train compartment just after Mrs. Weasley hugged them all goodbye and mopped at her teary face with a Hagrid sized handkerchief.

Just as Hermione was entering the compartment, she came face to face with Malfoy since the middle of the summer. He looked just as aristocratic as ever, with his mercurial eyes and dominate jaw line, his features just barely too pointed as to be deemed attractive. He regarded her apathetically, yet no bitter emotions occupied his eyes.

"Granger," he muttered, looking down at his shoes.

"Malfoy," she reciprocated not unkindly, but not with a friendly air either. Just as their tentatively gracious exchange started to become uncomfortable, Harry poked his head out the door.

"Hey Malfoy, fancy coming to our compartment?" He inquired, genuinely interested.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," the Malfoy replied gruffly and hurried down the hall to a compartment farther down. He did not look back as he entered the other coach.

Harry and Ron had acquired a cautious and strange, yet oddly at ease friendship with the snarky platinum blonde. Hermione supposed that if they had not been raised to hate one another since the beginning, they might have been mates naturally. They had a lot of the same qualities, Malfoy was just a little more in touch with his malicious side. The three of them were all extremely competitive and quick to anger, as well as intelligent and witty. She supposed they had all grown up a touch over the war, but she was still surprised how well they seemed to gel together. Harry and Ron were in no means okay with what Malfoy had done as an adolescent and probably still didn't trust him worth beans, but they got along just fine when it came down to it. She supposed it was for the best that it had happened that way, it made things a little easier for everyone, but she wasn't quite as all right with it as she would have thought. She probably trusted the pureblood less than Ron did.

The journey to Hogwarts was a quiet affair. All four of them were exhausted with the boarding and the ride was filled with soft, comfortable conversation, naps and chocolate frogs. Harry was proud and somewhat mortified to find his face on the back of his first chocolate frog card, proclaiming tales of the accomplishments of "The Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived", as the card had put it. Hermione pretended not to notice when Ginny slipped the card into the pocket of her robe.

There were exactly fifteen first years that were sorted after they entered the Great Hall, but Hermione didn't pay avid attention as she was still trying to erase the surprised noises some students made upon their journey from Hogsmeade Station. Apparently there were more students who could see the Thestrals after the conclusion of the war. It was not a thought Hermione wanted to dwell on, especially since she could see them as well.

Of the sorted first years, four went to Slytherin House, five to Hufflepuff, three to Gryffindor and the remaining went to Ravenclaw. The lions acquired a timid boy with jet black hair and two incessantly giggly blonde twins. Hermione was thankful that she wouldn't have to deal with the pair since she refused to be Head Girl as her Hogwarts letter had suggested.

The feast and the speech from McGonagall, as well as the traverse to Gryffindor Tower passed so quickly that before Hermione knew it, she was in her dormitory looking at her trunk. Since she had to repeat her seventh year, the sixth years from the past year were to be with her and Pavarti. Just like Hermione liked it, her room was next to the window and Parvarti was in the bed next to her. They both studiously ignored the bed that used to be Lavender's as the other seventh years filed in. Hermione was happy to be next to Ginny, at least she had her best girl mate to get out of combining with the lower year.

Despite the painful memories that had been brought back upon her return, she was glad to be there, it brought a sense of normalcy back to her life. The Aurors had found her parents, the Wizarding world was safe from Voldemort's oppression and things were already set in motion for an easy final year. She supposed that things were looking up. She had had enough trouble for a lifetime anyway.

* * *

Hermione's bag smashed onto the bench with a resounding crack. Ron and Harry turned their curiosity towards her as she plopped down next to her rucksack and questioned her while she resisted opening her mouth. The pair turned even more persistent when they spied the lazy flash of the Head Girl badge that festooned her collar proudly. They were almost to the point of physically forcing the galling anecdote out of her when she gave in with a sigh.

She recounted how just that morning, McGonagall had come to her in a frenzy of robes and flustreed countenance, all but begging her to retake her job as Head Girl. She had originally refused the responsibility, but upon seeing how stressed the Headmistress was, she took pity and accepted. She didn't ask what had become of the prior Head Girl, but she doubted that anything having to do with Tracy Davis had been good.

She was to work with Michael Corner, the seventh year Ravenclaw student who not only dated Ginny during Hermione's fifth year, but was the only person Hermione had ever met that reminded her of the micromanaging little strop that she had been during her first year at Hogwarts. She guessed that she would not have to do much as Head Girl, Michael Corner would take care of it for her all by himself. Harry and Ron were also under that impression, saying that "if Michael Corner is as swotty as you were when we first met you, the most tedious thing you'll have to do as Head Girl will be to stay awake in all the meetings with those silly Prefects."

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It was on a normal, boring Monday afternoon, four months after her return to Hogwarts that Hermione was studying in her favourite corner of the library next to the Restricted Section. It was with an exasperated sigh that she heard the sounds hinting towards an annoying commotion drifting lazily through the bookshelves. Head Girl instincts taking over, she grabbed her wand, put aside her book on poisons and stalked with all the grace she could muster through the shelves.

She cringed as she recognised the shrill voice of one Pansy Parkinson and the annoyed tone of one Draco Malfoy. She couldn't make out many of the words that Parkinson screamed, but it sounded as if she was either practising her rusty door hinge imitation or was being dumped. From the sounds of Malfoy's huffing, she guessed it was the later.

All of a sudden, their voices were coming closer to her. She stole into the closest alcove she could find and pressed herself into the shadows. It was not long before she watched Draco Malfoy stride past lividly and a teary Parkinson stumbling behind.

After waiting about half a minute, she collected her book bag and walked out of the library. She followed the faint sound of footprints all the way out to the lake, ready to put paid to the mess she knew was coming.

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Thanks for reading! Please review!

Stay classy.

—Beanka


	3. The Relationship Changes

Sorry this one's kind of short! Hope you like it anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. End.

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For the second time that day, she misused her prowess as Head Girl and snuck out—this time it was after dinner to get a glass or two. It had been a long day, and she was not about to go into fourth year tutoring without something to drink.

Grabbing her cloak, she snuck out of the castle again, but instead of sneaking off towards the lake like earlier, she slipped under the clock tower and made her way towards Hogsmeade.

She entered the practically empty Three Broomsticks and sat down at the bar, accepting a mug of butterbeer from the tender with a smile. She thought about the interesting turn of events that had gone down that day, taking her quiet study session to an entire new level of oddity with giving Pansy Parkinson a stern talking to and fishing Draco Malfoy out of the lake after Parkinson had pushed him off a particularly high rock. _Not that she didn't have a reason,_ Hermione mused, _he had dumped her rather ruthlessly. _

Making a swishing sound as it gathered speed, another glass of butterbeer slid in from of her. Hermione looked up at the bartender and gave him a bewildered look.

"Excuse me, I didn't order this," she replied politely. She was so exhausted that she didn't even bother to push the brew back to where it came from.

"Courtesy of the young gentleman down the way," the barkeep nodded.

Hermione looked to her left. At the end of the bar, still wet and sickly looking from the lake, sat Draco Malfoy. He smiled slightly and raised his drink to her.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked acidly. He slinked down into the seat next to her and took a sip of his own butterbeer nonchalantly.

"I saw you leave the castle, very Slytherin of you by the way, and I figured that now would be the perfect time to discuss," he smirked.

"Discuss what?" She blinked.

"Our soon to be friendship," Draco replied, his tone hinting that he found her thick in the head for having to ask a question.

"Our what?!"

"Oh come on Granger, you're brainy! You can't save my butt from the untold horrors of Parkinson, the giant squid in the lake and the rubble incident after the war and not say we're friends. Besides, we have the same mates now. Remember? Your witless gorms Potter and Weasley? We're going to have to deal with each other some time. Let's just make it so we're not at each others throats."

She shot him another sceptical look, but he just raised his glass once more and took a long swig.

* * *

The next day, Hermione sat again at her favourite table in the back corner of the Library, attempting to read whilst trying to block out the sound of Malfoy swishing his wand in lethargic circles. Said young man watched, seemingly bored out of his wits, as a different colour of sparks emitted out the end of his Hawthorn each time. The top book from her pile of homework tomes would flap its pages at every flash, the sound reminding Hermione of a hummingbird.

After a few exasperating minutes, the pureblood spoke. "So this is what you do in your free time? Hang out with musty old books?"

"Yes," she replied sharply, slightly offended.

"How dull."

Hermione snorted quietly in response, not even bothering to look up at the indolent blonde.

After a couple more moments, the sound of rustling pages caught her attention. She glanced warily over the top of her book to see the incessantly jaded mien of Malfoy, but this time with a volume of his own. She couldn't help the fond smile that graced her face.

It was this moment that Hermione would remember for many weeks as the one of the most peaceful moments she had had in the library, sitting with Malfoy, studying in companionable silence.

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Well….Did you like it? If you did, tell me!

Stay classy,

—Beanka


	4. Not Quite The Best Night

This chapter changes point of view halfway through, so enjoy getting into the head of Draco! This is probably a one time thing, so don't get your hopes up :D

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

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"Please?! We just want to do it once! You've never let us do it before, can't we play dress up one time before we leave Hogwarts?" Ginny squealed like a pig, jumping up and down and twirling an awry curl from off Hermione's shoulder.

Parvati played with Hermione's curls as well. "Don't you remember how many boys fell for you during the Yule Ball in fourth year?" She commented, using the persuasive voice that Hermione knew so well from the many times the Patil girl had tried to get her to go out with Cormac McLaggen. "And that was without our help!"

Hermione tried to tune them out as best she could and focus on her Potions assignment as they giggled and attempted to sway Hermione. She didn't even want to go to the Christmas ball that McGonagall was putting on to 'increase house unity' and all that load of rubbish, but she had a responsibility as a Head to stay for the duration of the party. And Ginny and Parvati were having none of the reasons she was throwing at them as to why they didn't even need to find a dress for her. Apparently "I'll just go and stay in the corner" wasn't a valid argument.

"You'll make every boy in the school fall in love with you tonight if you just let us do it! Please?"

Hermione threw her arms up in the air and tried to swat their incessant hands away from her hair. "But I don't want every boy to fall in love with me. I don't even want to go! I have studying to do besides."

Ginny, ever the passive aggressive type, contorted her sweet smile in to a menacing glare and stamped her foot on the ground like a petulant child. "Hermione Jean Granger, you will let us dress you up for the dance or you are _never_ leaving this dormitory ever again!"

"Ugh, Ginerva Weasley! I said no!" the addressed girl shouted right back, irritated to no end.

Parvati, ever the reasonable one, was less quick to anger. She placed a quiet hand on Hermione shoulder and modelled the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. "Hermione, please? As your dorm-mates for the past six years, don't you trust us enough to just do your hair?"

Sudden sadness quieted Ginny. "Please Hermione? You know how much Lavender would have loved to...to do this with you." Parvati stiffened and closed her eyes, the mention of her best friend striking a painful twinge in her heart. Ginny looked at the Patil girl, looking regretful for her comment, but Parvati brushed her off.

Feeling sorry for the Patil girl, Hermione sighed deeply, stymied. "Humph. Make it quick."

Almost two entire hours later, Ginny and Parvati stood in front of Hermione, as proud as a mother after her child's graduation from Primary School. They had used a particularly liberal amount of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which Hermione found rather reminiscent of her times as a fourteen year old. This time though, her "hairdressers" ironed her hair until it was pin straight and flowed like a sheet of fabric down her back.

After her hair and makeup were done, they pulled out a dress and all but shoved her inside it. The dress was a creamy silver colour, a full ball gown. It had two wide straps that covered her shoulders and descended into the tight bodice. Lace sleeves underneath went to her elbows and ended in a glittery hem. The skirt was full and double layered with a pair of small slits by her ankles. The gown was pale and velvety, very traditional and in a classic style with modern touches, accompanied by little silver designs and patterns here and there in shimmery—and obviously fake—diamond-like jewels.

The girls ooh-ed and aww-ed and fawned and flattered as Hermione laced up her ballet slippers and then the pair pushed her over to stand in front of the mirror. Though Hermione could tell the difference, she wasn't too excited about everyone seeing her in it. She had already had a night like this in fourth year, and she wasn't sure that she wanted all that attention anymore. She had gotten quiet enough of the spotlight after seeing her own face in nearly every newspaper at the end of the War. In fact, the thought of anyone even _glancing _at her after a transformation like this made her queasy. _Too bad I can't back out now_, she thought to herself as she was being hustled out of Gryffindor Tower and to the Great Hall to set up by Parvati and Ginny. _If only I had that time turner, I could go back and refuse their help,_ she mused.

* * *

Walking along the sidelines of the ball, Draco was looking for an exit. Well, more like an escape. He was looking for a door to run out of unnoticed. Apparently, being a bad boy turned to the light side was lush, and he was being followed unceasingly by a group of girls, most of which were sixth year _Gryffindors. _Ugh. Oh how he hoped that he wouldn't die from throwing up so much that his vital organs came spewing out.

Just as he was contemplating how everyone would morn his untimely death caused by disgust, especially those nasty little Gryffindor desperates, he was pulled rather roughly by the sleeve of his handsome dress robes into the wall. "Cormac is coming, Malfoy hide me!"

He instantly recognised the voice of Granger, and a completely ticked and horrified Granger at that. Draco backed off, raising his hands in defence. "Oh no, I'm not being pulled into this."

Granger stole another frightened glance from around his shoulder and turned to face him, drive and panic renewed. "He's smirking! I won't be able to escape this room in time!" She looked all around them, this time. Draco guessed she was looking for spectators. With a quick glance, he noticed that there was nobody around or even looking in their direction. What little people that were left were all out on the dance floor, being so disgustingly mushy he was nauseous. Even his fan club was preoccupied, that is, they were stuffing their faces at the food tables. The only person who was looking at them was a certain Cormac McLaggen, a determined grin on his face. Hermione snapped her fingers to grab Draco's attention once more. "Quick, do something boyfriend-y, scare him off!"

Draco raised a sceptical eyebrow, as if he had not heard her correctly. "Boyfriend-y?" he drawled.

Granger nodded vigorously. "Yes, I'll do your Transfiguration for—three weeks, just do something!" She proposed, hope shining in her eyes even as they flashed with panic, signalling to Draco that Cormac was coming closer and she was about to go spare.

The prospect of not having to do his least favourite subject until school started up again in January sounded like a good one to Draco, so he shrugged. "Do something like walk closer?" He inquired, even as he took a step forward, closer than he supposed he had ever been to her before.

Granger sighed exasperatedly. "Closer than that. Back me into the wall," she prompted.

Both blond eyebrows raised at that comment. "Pardon?"

Hermione grunted in frustration. "You heard." With one more fleeting look behind his head, she paled. "Hands around my waist. Now."

Slytherin side coming out, the words from Draco's mouth were hanging in the air before he stop them. "Make it four weeks," he demanded.

Granger's eyes burned with annoyance as she grabbed his tie and pulled his face closer until their noses were almost touching. "I'll do five if I have to, he's coming closer," she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Draco couldn't stop the sly smile that stretched across his face. No Transfiguration until almost February? Sounded good to him. Just to make sure, he reposed the bargain. "Five weeks?" She nodded. "Deal." Thinking about how mad his fan club would be, he smirked and stepped around both her slim legs, effectively trapping her, and leaned in until she was against the wall. Her hot breath was blowing in his face by the time he placed his hands on either side of her face.

"This good enough Your Majesty?" He droned sarcastically. He meant to glare at her, but found his efforts fruitless as her eyes were trained on a rapidly retreating figure.

"He's leaving, thanks Mal—" She abruptly cut herself off as her eyes widened and her head turned all the way to face to his, finally taking notice of their rather compromising position. It was then that Draco realised how close they really were.

The corner of Granger's mouth turned up. "Are you trying to _kiss_ me, Malfoy?"

Feeling threatened, his old brutal self kicked in. "You wish, mudblood," he muttered vehemently. They were so close, his lips brushed hers at his retort. He stepped away from her as if he had been burned by a hot iron and strode out of the Great Hall with his characteristically long, arrogant gait.

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Sorry he's mean at the end. Did you like it anyway? Tell me if you did!

Stay classy,

Beanka


	5. What You'd Expect? Not Really

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

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"What are you doing Granger? Fanaticising about the Christmas Ball again, now are we?" Hermione instantly recognised the snide voice that drawled behind her.

"Malfoy, if you're coming here to bother me, it's not appreciated." She huffed, seeing the air puff out like white train smoke from her mouth, and continued to read her book. She was sitting on a bench just outside the main entry to the school, enjoying the pink sunset even though the overcast sky made it hard to see the dying sun.

She felt her scarf being lifted off her shoulder by nimble fingers, the red and gold wrapping pressing on her neck and forcing her to lean back straight into the chest of Malfoy. His lips brushed her ear slightly as he spoke. "So what, you're not going to thank me for what I did for you?" She saw his own breath wisp out over her shoulder in a cloud of spearmint toothpaste scented derision.

Ignoring the alluring smell, she bristled at his remark. "That day last week with Cormac, you wouldn't even do something nice for me without asking to get something out of it! If we're friends, why won't you do something for me just because I asked?" She twisted out of his grip, her scarf remaining in his hands as she turned furiously to face him. "And then, when I saved you from that rubble after Battle of Hogwarts, did you even thank me for that one? I _saved_ your life!" His eyes darkened with fury, and Hermione subconsciously took a step back at the expression. Not fully understanding the range of the pureblood's anger, she blundered on. "I'm not asking you to hail me as your saviour or whatever, but when are you going to stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about what other people have done for you? What they have done for you because they see something in you! I know I shouldn't, but there _is _something good inside that cruel, prejudiced head of yours, and sometimes I think I find it and other times I wonder if I found it at all." She took a deep breath and watched as Malfoy digested her yakking, blinking as his eyes softened. "What I'm trying to say is that you need to grow up," she finished firmly and somewhat harsher than she was going to, the absence of wrath from his countenance unnerving her to some extent.

After a moment of hush she pressed on. "Are you going to answer me or what?" She demanded, suppressing the urge to stomp her foot on the frosty sod beneath her.

Silence. "No?"

She threw her hands up in the air, disregarding the way that the cold winter air stung her exposed neck. "Just for once in your life, do something that you don't have to think about first! Do _something_! You've always been just talk and no trousers Malfoy, grow up and do something instead!"

He spoke for the first time after her rant, and when he did, his voice was cold and emotionless, the perfect mask of apathy. "You want me to do something? The something I didn't do before?"

Hermione scoffed, fed up with his attitude. "Yes, but knowing you, you won't be able to."

Malfoy stepped forward slightly, a supercilious sneer curling his lips. "Oh? Is that a bet I hear?"

"One that I'll win."

"Are you sure about that?"

"And how!"

Malfoy stepped forward once more, and, taking Hermione scarf in both hands, he flipped it over her head till it hit her waist and pulled her to him just as he closed the gap. His hands tightened around the fabric further up on the patterned stole as he snogged her good and hard.

He broke off quickly, and before Hermione could register what had even happened, he had gently placed her scarf back on her neck and was gone out of sight, behind the greenhouses and towards the lake. Just as she turned away to stagger bewilderedly back inside the castle, the heavens opened and a heavy rain was unleashed from the sky. The sprinkling of water snapped Hermione out of her consternation and she moved into action instantly. Knowing how stubborn the Slytherin was, Hermione ran into the coat closet by the main entry and pulled an umbrella from the top shelf. She knew Malfoy wouldn't come in after that exhibition, so she was going out.

* * *

Hermione slowed her jog when she reached the lake. The red brolly she held in her hands jolted up and down with the force of the pouring rain. He was sitting on a rock by the lake, his shoulders hunched and his hands on his knees. Hermione advanced as quietly as possible until she was standing right behind him and her brolly was partially covering his head as well. "Malfoy," she started, then hesitated.

His hands curled into fists, but she forged onward. "Draco, I'm sorry. Those things, I never should have said them."

"Save it Granger, it's not you I'm mad at." His voice sounded like sandpaper on wood.

"Harry and Ron then?"

"No," he grunted, "myself. And that McLaggen bloke. How people end up that thick, I'll never know."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of Cormac. "I don't know either, but why do you care anyway?"

"I just can't believe that he treats girls like that."

If his voice hadn't been so sincere, Hermione would have laughed out loud. "You mean the way _you_ treat the female population of Hogwarts?"

Malfoy popped his imaginary collar, already seeming to perk up. "That's beside the point. I'm a Malfoy, it's okay for me."

Hermione glared disapprovingly at the back of his head. "Ah, how very misogynistic of you," Hermione huffed with a saccharine smile.

Malfoy started to chuckled, but stopped immediately. He bent his shoulders more and rubbed his hands together futilely. "Go away Granger, I'm cold, and I don't…I don't need you to worsen my mood anymore than you have already."

"Well sitting here pouting like a love-sick Hufflepuff isn't going to do anything good for you." She replied in a no-nonsense tone, a little disappointed that he was back to his normal self.

Malfoy scoffed. "And what do you suggest? If I go out and hex someone into oblivion, like I want to, you'll just give me detention and hex me right back."

"Honestly, you call yourself a Slytherin?" She wondered and sat down gracefully on the wet granite next to him. "Does the word 'Revenge' ring any bells in your Gryffindor ears?"

"Revenge?" He asked, taking the umbrella from her hands and holding it for her. Hermione noticed that she felt more droplets of water on her head than when she had held it, but she didn't really mind.

Scrunching his golden eyebrows, Malfoy frowned. "Who do I _have_ to get revenge on?"

"Who else? McLaggen, you numpty." Hermione replied, gently smacking the blond upside the head. "Besides, I have a score to settle with the stupid git myself."

He turned to her, gobsmacked. "Blimey, you want to do this the underhanded way?"

"Believe it or not, it's one of the things I do best." Hermione said, trying to keep the pride out of her voice but failing miserably. "When there's a good cause for it, of course." She rationalised.

Malfoy's smirk was almost a smile as he looked at her, still completely bemused. "And this is a good cause?"

She took the umbrella from his lithe fingers and stood. "If it'll get you out of the rain, then yes. I already have an idea, so let's get started, Savvy?"

He stood as well, holding out his hand. "Savvy."

They shook in a professional manner, and the two business partners walked back into the castle. Soaking wet, matching smirks-but-almost-smiles on their faces.

* * *

Ooooh. Revenge. What a fun word! haha just kidding.

Did you like it? Review if you did!


	6. Two Dozen Roses

I'm pretty terrible at writing a silly scenes like the one that pans out, so just use your imagination and get clues from what Hermione says! It's like a little (not so difficult) puzzle. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

* * *

"Here it is!" Hermione cried joyously. While she looked around for the lithe blond, she caught Madam Pince's eye and winced when the old librarian glared at her. With a soft whisper, Hermione continued. "I found it Malfoy."

He came up behind her and read over her shoulder. "A love potion, eh Granger?"

She tried not to sound smug, she really did, but it came out like that anyway. "You bet." She said.

"You know, I'm almost more scared of you now that I've seen your vindictive side." He murmured back, just as they realised how close they were to each other.

"I'm actually more Slytherin than you'd think." Hermione said and spun around to face him, widening the gap between them.

Malfoy leaned against the bookshelf and crossed his arms and his legs at the ankle. "If you weren't Granger, I'd find that pretty peng."

"I guess it's a good thing that I am, then." She shot back. He gave her a teasing grin, one which she was astonished to find that she returned.

* * *

Less than twenty-four hours later, Hermione stalked up to him, hands on hips, toe tapping and eyes ignited with fire. "I can't believe you would do that! It was a simple prank, not humiliation! I told you to put Eloise Midgen's hair in that potion—not Professor Trelawney's! Do you know how long Cormac was following the Professor, kissing the hem of her cloak? Four hours! She's put him in detention with McGonagall until May!" She was livid.

Malfoy scowled and faced her, appraising her challengingly. "And what are you going to do about it Granger?"

Hermione was one hundred per cent done. "You better watch yourself Malfoy!" she spat right back.

An expression unknown to Hermione flashed on and off his face before she could catch what it was. "Watch myself?" He asked quietly. "I'd rather watch you," he muttered, shaking his head back and forth.

"What?" she inquired eloquently.

With a odd shrug that depicted a sudden chucking of caution to the wind, he crossed the gap between them in two strides. Taking her chin in his right hand, he placed a swift kiss on her cheek that left her breathless for a moment.

By the time she gained her bearings once more, he was gone. "Ugh, Malfoy you twit!" She yelled disparagingly to the empty air in his wake.

* * *

The next time Hermione saw the "Blond Devil," as she had decided to call him, was Valentine's Day. Never one to be swayed the mushy holiday, it was not a surprise that she woke up in a awful mood. She sat down with a resounding thump in the Great Hall and brushed glittering confetti off her breakfast plate. Harry and Ron exchanged a wry grin at her antics and didn't waste any time in offering her fluffy scrambled eggs dyed pink and brilliant red pancakes filled purple coloured double cream.

She glared at them fiercely and the two young men shared a good laugh.

Right as she decided to drink some orange juice, mainly because it wasn't dyed a garish colour, a noise from above her head caught her attention.

Hermione cursed under her breath. It was the owls with the post. She had been hoping that she had missed it. She had no desire to watch Pavarti freak out about the boys who had sent her cards, nor did she want to see how many candies Harry received. She knew she wasn't getting any cards, and it sometimes stung how much attention Harry got from the opposite gender when he didn't even want it.

Not that she wanted any male attention. No way. That was a mental thought.

"Hermione," Ron laughed, bringing her out of her reverie. "Look up."

Scrunching her eyebrows, she did so. And gasped. Hovering above her was the largest eagle owl she had ever seen, and clutched in its beak was the largest bouquet of roses she had ever laid eyes on. Raising a tentative hand into the air, she was once again caught off-guard when the eagle owl screeched and dropped its cargo carelessly into her lap.

So overwhelmed was she by this present that it took Harry three tries to get her attention.

"Hermione!"

"What?"

Harry smiled as if he was in on a secret joke. "What does the card say?"

Hermione dug around in the flowers until she saw the small envelope sitting in the middle of her breakfast plate. Brushing some crumbs off the little note, she opened it with an eagerness that surprised herself. She read the card to herself, and, grinning, she relayed the message to Ron and Harry.

_Hermione Granger,_

_I hope that these flowers find you feeling happy and loved this Valentine's Day. May the beauty of these roses, which can in no way match your own beauty, follow you this day and always._

_Yours,_

_An Admirer_

* * *

Hermione couldn't pay attention for the rest of the day. After classes were over, she walked to the library and spread out all her books before her, but she just couldn't stay focused. All her thoughts were preoccupied with wondering who on earth had sent her those roses. And what did this mysterious admirer mean by "your own beauty?"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, as Draco Malfoy was suddenly sitting next to her, spreading his books out as well—as if nothing was the matter. She hadn't even heard him approach. "You seem preoccupied, Granger." He commented casually.

"Yes," she sniffed. "I suppose I am." She was still not ready to forgive Malfoy for his earlier antics.

"Oh come on," he cajoled. "Are you still going to be mad at me?"

"Of course. You've given me no reason to forgive you."

There was a pause, and just as she was about to tell him to leave her alone, he replied in a soft voice. "Would two dozen roses convince you?"

"Wha—"

"I said, would two dozen roses convince you to forgive me?"

"Malfoy, I—" Hermione started. Then stopped. She had absolutely no idea what to say. He had sent her those?

"If all it takes is sending you flowers to shut you up, I should have done it a long time ago!" He replied jovially, but cried out in protest when she smacked him on the wrist.

"You're an idiot." She smiled. Then paused. "But thank you."

The tips of his ears turned red. "For what?"

"For making this day a bit more bearable." She smiled.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, ah…glad I could help."

Hermione chuckled. "Who knew all it took was an honest showing of gratitude to shut you up? I would have said thanks a long time ago."

He looked at her askance as a grin slowly spread across his face.

_Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all. _Hermione mused.

* * *

Please send a review my way! They really do mean a lot :D


	7. The Past Comes Back

This chapter's a little darker, but don't worry, the light tone is back by the next chapter. It's not super angsty, but there are some more serious themes in this part.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

* * *

Hermione's shaking hit in a violent second wave as she stood barefoot outside by the railing of the Clock Tower. No amount of gripping the wrought iron could control her body, and no focusing on the ticking of the clock behind her could distract her from dwelling on the nightmare she had just had. Off in the distance, thunderclouds crackled with tempests, signalling that a fast-moving storm was going to hit soon. The sound of footsteps from behind her did nothing to drown out of the steady ticking of the clock and the howling of a wolf in the distance.

"The werewolves aren't going to be happy with the rain tonight, are they?"

What surprised her more than the presence of a human being was the identity of said person. "Oh, Malfoy, you startled me." She, of course, had recognised the characteristic voice of the blond instantly, and she turned to take him in. He was wearing blue pinstripe pyjama bottoms and a thick tartan blanket hung across his shoulders, protecting him from the night's chill.

Instead of replying to her comment, he walked forward so that he was next to her, his hallowed eyes searching the horizon. "You think it will rain?" His voice was hoarser than Hermione had ever heard before and his eyes had dark circles underneath.

Hermione turned her own attention to the far-off storm. The brewing clouds reminded her of the haunting darkness of her dreams. She wished that Malfoy were someone else, someone that would hold her and comfort her, because she knew better than to ask. "I can hear the thunder off in the distance, so yes, I suppose that it will rain."

Malfoy drew his blanket tighter over his neck. "It's getting colder by the second, isn't it?"

"It _is_ quite brisk, yes," she replied even as she hugged herself to the cold iron bar, the icy coldness of the metal keeping her grounded. Just like the thick wires on telephone lines back in her hometown.

The boy beside her turned his gaze to scrutinise her. "Yes, which doesn't explain why you're up here on top of the Astronomy tower in nothing but athletic shorts and an old T-shirt. What is that on your shirt anyways? The print is so faded I can't read it."

Hermione was surprised that Malfoy had recognised the Muggle article of clothing that swathed her legs, but she hid it lest he make a sly comment. "You really jump from topic to topic don't you Malfoy?" At his amused nod, she continued, glancing down at the shirt. "It's The Who. They were my favourite band as a kid."

Malfoy inclined his head gracefully and looked back at the storm. "I see. Why are you up here all alone?"

"I could ask the same of you, y'know."

"Touché."

They were silent for a fleeting minute as Hermione's aching body wracked with renewed trembling. Her knuckles were white on the railing and her knees were hopelessly locked as she used all the strength she had left to conceal her quivers from Malfoy. The dreams she had this time were bothering her much more than they usually did, and she didn't want to share.

"Do you really think the werewolves will come out tonight?" She broke the silence with her halting sentence, her jaws so tightly clamped shut that she could barely speak.

"Maybe," his voice was soft and his eyes were pensive. "Everything in the Forbidden Forest has been restless since the War."

The mention of the past hit too close to her fear. She failed to hold back her quaking.

Malfoy sounded surprised when he spoke, and Hermione could have sworn she felt a tentative hand ghost across her back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject."

"No, I'm just cold, don't worry about it." Her jaw clinked together like coins in a purse as she replied.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy whip out his wand and promptly cast a flickering blue flame that hovered above them in the air, spreading a ghostly tinge around the tower. His tone was proud when he countered her claim. "How's that?"

Hermione smiled slightly, but the shuddering did not subside.

"You're still shaking. It's not just the cold is it?"

She bit her lip, wondering what she could reveal to the boy askance her. "No," she finally admitted.

His voice was gravelly and guarded when he responded. "Nightmares, Granger?" She looked up at him to gauge his emotion was surprised to find not even the smallest hint of spite in his face. He looked concerned, nervous even. As if he was scared to find out why she was so shaken up.

It was without fear that Hermione looked into his wide eyes and nodded slowly. His eyes only left hers to look at her forearm, to gaze at the arm she had been unconsciously rubbing with the tip of her thumb. The etched word she had been tracing with her slender fingers. After catching her involuntary folly, she pressed both of her arms against her stomach, wrenching her eyes closed; as if hoping that by closing her eyes, Malfoy would simply blow away like smoke into the air.

The brewing storm was about to strike, and Hermione hoped that he would be gone before the first drops fell.

She had no such luck. No sooner had she peeked her eyes open than she felt an overwhelming warmth surround her shoulders. Malfoy had taken the blanket from his neck and draped it across her, exposing his light cotton shirt to the arctic February air.

"Do you want to tell me what happened? It must have been something big to get the most bleeding-heart Gryffindor I know like this. I'll tell you why I'm out here first if it would help."

She looked back and forth between the tweed blanket and its owner warily. She took a deep breath in through her mouth, wondering if it was palpable trust that she tasted in the air. She nodded mutely even as her shaking settled a touch.

Malfoy nodded back and cleared his throat slightly. "Tonight is the six-month anniversary of when my Father was put in Azkaban. I haven't slept all night for thinking about the day he got The Kiss…" Hermione felt her heart melt, and she moved closer to Malfoy. Their sides were touching now. "Now it's your turn Granger."

The young witch filled her lungs once more with the biting air and she gathered her thoughts. "She comes to my nightmares sometimes—Bellatrix. It's always awful, but it's never been as bad as it was tonight. Usually she just comes and does what she's already done to me, and then she leaves, but this time, it was my Mum instead of me." She felt him stiffen beside her, but she couldn't stop talking now that she had started. "I couldn't go to her and save her. My feet wouldn't move, my mouth wouldn't open. I couldn't scream. I couldn't breathe.

"And Bellatrix laughed, and she screamed with Mum, but her's were happy screams. She had that knife. And she scarred Mum just like she did me." Tears spilled out of her eyes as she gasped for breath. "And Bellatrix, she would look at me, and her gaze hurt. Hurt me in my heart. It felt like she was real, like she was back from the dead, just in my head, just to kill me inside more." The more words surged out of her mouth, the faster they got, until they were coming out in such a blur Hermione wasn't sure she even understood herself.

"The chandelier from the ceiling came down and hit Bellatrix, just like it almost did. The glass cut her, and then floor turned black as pitch. Then the floor fell away and we were sucked inside through the hole in the floor, like it was empty space. And as I fell, I still couldn't move. And Mum was still screaming, I could hear it." She sniffed and when she continued, her voice was no longer panicky and urgent, but it was dead and hallow. "When I woke, I was in the corridor outside the Dungeons. I don't know how I got there. But that's where I was. I thought about going to McGonagall, but she would send me home. I know she would." Her voice started to tremble terribly and the insistence was back. "But I can't go there, not now. I'm afraid that if I go home, Mum and Dad won't be there. I don't want to have to face loosing them again, not when I sent them away to Australia. And I can't tell Harry or Ron either. They don't know that I have dreams about that day in Malfoy Man—" She stopped dead in her tracks. "Malfoy Manor," she murmured. Suddenly her hands were on his shoulders and she was shaking him desperately. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have told you! That's your aunt, that was your house. You saw that night. Why am I telling you this? Oh I'm sorry Malfoy, I shouldn't have, I—"

"Hermione!" He yelled, his voice strangled and worried. "Shut up about me, will you?" He grabbed her wrists and roughly gathered her up in to his arms. When he spoke next, it was suddenly soft and gentle, and Hermione could feel the rumble in his chest. Her ear was right over his heart and she could hear it beat, fast and frantic. "I don't know exactly what you're going through, but I do know what dreams can do to you if you dwell on them. It's good that you're talking about it and not holding it all in, but now that you've let it all out, you need to forget about it."

"But how do I do that?" She hated how weak her voice sounded, but he didn't seem to mind. His grip on her sides loosened slightly, but he did not let her go.

"A Pensive."

Her words came slowly, as if she was swimming through molasses. "A Pensive? Where would we get one of those? The only person I know that has one is the Headmistress, but I don't think she'll let us—"

"No, we don't need hers."

Hermione pulled away to look at him properly, even though she was loath to leave the warmth and strength of his arms. "Whose will we use?"

"Just come with me," he replied in a reassuring voice. He pulled his wand out of his pinstripe pocket and waved it at the Quidditch Stadium. "ACCIO BROOMSTICK!"

There was a loud banging sound that came from the Broomshed and instantly a Nimbus 2001 came to his side. Stowing his Hawthorn, he mounted expertly and held his hand out. "Come on Hermione, get on the back."

Hermione was unsure. "I don't know Malfoy, I don't like heights…."

Malfoy kept his hand out, and Hermione could tell that he was fighting an eye roll. "I'll be right here the whole time. Do you trust me?"

Reminded suddenly of the Disney movie _Aladdin_, she tentatively took his hand. "I suppose, I don't know."

"Good enough," he grunted and deftly swung her to sit sidesaddle behind him. "Hold on."

"Where are we going?" She asked as she wrapped her arms around Draco's lithe waist.

"Just to Hogsmeade."

"Why? Who there has a Pensive?"

She could feel him chuckle as he kicked off from the top of the Clock Tower. She imagined that he was laughing at the quantity of questions she was asking—it wouldn't be the first time. "I believe Mr. Dumbledore from the Hog's Head does."

"He has one?" She asked her question with her eyes closed as she felt the wind blow around her and droplets of rain fall on her cheeks. She didn't want to look down to see the Hogwarts grounds hundreds of feet below her.

Malfoy had to shout to be heard over the gusty air. "Yes, a discovery I made at the beginning of the year. I went into the Hog's Head one night late, just this last September, and I guess that the Dumbledore man could tell that there was a lot on my mind, so he gave me a drink and let me use his special pensive. It took some of the pain of the thoughts away when I put them inside. I didn't forget the memories, no way, but when I put the thoughts inside and they disappeared, I was almost detached from the memories. I bet that Aberforth would let you put some of your memories of that night with Auntie Bella inside it so you wouldn't have them with you."

It wasn't until she listened to Draco's drawling—yet somehow soothing—voice that she realised how tired she was. "Okay," she agreed and she drifted off into slumber.

* * *

"Hermione, wake up. We're here."

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself leaning against Malfoy and staring into Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes. "Dumbledore?" She murmured. "But you're dead."

She felt Malfoy stiffen dramatically, and she turned to look at him. "Malfoy?"

His only response was directed at Dumbledore. "Come on Aberforth, let's get her inside."

* * *

Did you like it? Too dark? I felt like you needed a little more serious of a part to show how the war grew them up. Did you like it or was it unneeded?

Review and tell me your thoughts! I'd love to hear them :D


	8. Reassurances

Let's just get right into the thick of things, but first, a disclaimer.

I don't own anything you recognise. There. I said it. Happy?

Also: Many thanks to Zoe Ann, Amazon Lilly and queen for their sweet review! Y'all were a guests so I couldn't PM you, but I really appreciated it!

* * *

The morning after her nightmare, Hermione dozed through breakfast. Her chin was propped against her hand and she was so tired that she didn't care if her hair was getting stuck in her blueberry syrup or not. Her Gryffindor comrades exchanged mildly worried looks, but Hermione had never noticed.

She slugged through the day, looking very much like a zombie from one of her cousin's VHS tapes. She had tripped up thirteen staircases, ran into four walls and walked straight through Nearly Headless Nick twice without so much as a pause. Harry and Ron had counted.

She was now sleeping on top of her Arithmancy textbook in her favourite corner of the library, and she would have happily stayed like that until Madame Pince closed up the library, but she was interrupted.

Her face hit the table rather roughly as her textbook was pulled out from under her head. Groaning, she lifted her eyes to meet stern grey ones. Malfoy was staring at her, a single eyebrow raised.

"May I help you?" She asked grumpily.

"Yes. Yes you can."

Hermione sighed. She had been enjoying her nap. "What?"

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Malfoy looked down quickly, but Hermione still noticed uncertainty flash through his eyes.

She rubbed her eyes, suddenly awake. "No," she replied. "I think you've done many bad things in your life, but _you're_ not bad."

"That was simple," Malfoy chuckled, seemingly embarrassed. "I'll leave you to your nap."

As he got up to go, Hermione instinctively grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into his chair. "Wait."

He hummed, annoyed.

She heaved a sigh, not wanting to say what she knew she had to. "I just wanted to say that—I'm sorry."

She was met with a blank stare.

"I am!"

Malfoy rubbed his face with his palms. "For what?"

"For bringing up Dumbledore last night. I was disoriented. I didn't know what I was talking about. I know it's a tender subject for you, but I just wanted you know that…it wasn't your fault, what happened at the Astronomy Tower. Harry told me about it, and I know why you did it. Anyone would have done the same thing."

Malfoy stood up hastily. "Granger, while I appreciate that you think I'm innocent, it doesn't help. What happened between Dumbledore and I will never be changed. You can't change the past."

Before Hermione could process what to say next, he was gone.

"Malfoy!" She called, running out of the library behind him. She had to dodge an affronted Madame Pince, but she escaped unscathed.

She caught him on a moving staircase. "Malfoy wait!"

He turned slowly, disbelief crowning his features. "You just don't give up, do you Granger?"

She shook her head, too out of breath to speak.

"So? What do you want now?"

Silence.

"Nothing? You're not going to answer me then?"

Hermione shook her head again.  
"This is bollocks Granger. Now leave me alone before I do something both illegal and drastic."

Hermione just smiled and attacked him in a fierce hug.

He cried out in protest for a few seconds before quieting slowly. "Granger, if anyone sees this, they'll go spare. And then kill me."

"I know." She chuckled at the thought. "You're not evil Malfoy." She added, softly and sincerely. "Just a little confused."

Malfoy sighed, his hot breath going into her ears. "You think so?"

"I know so." She pulled away. "Now get to your Common Room before curfew or I'll have to take off points."

He gave her an odd, searching look before disappearing down a staircase and into the bowels of the dungeons.

As Hermione walked to McGonagall's office to begin her rounds, she couldn't help but think about Malfoy, and she couldn't help but vividly remember how Aberforth had winked, smiled and pulled out two mugs of butterbeer and his Pensive without a word.

* * *

"Do try to leave some of the books for the rest of the student body, Granger."

"Very funny Malfoy." She tried to glare at him from the top rung of the ladder, but they both ended up smiling instead. It was the first time she had seen Malfoy since her apology, and she knew something had changed forever.

She turned back to the book titles she was looking at, glancing around the fifth shelf up on the library bookshelves for the tome on Bubotubers she needed for Herbology.

"EEEK!"

Malfoy let out a jaunty laugh and caught Hermione deftly in his arms. "You're sure falling head over heels for these Herbology books, aren't you?"

Hermione, who was struggling to get down from his arms took the time to glare are him. "You're the one who poked me in the back of my bleeding knees! What would you expect me to have done? Fly away on my handy pair of wings?"

Malfoy laughed again, a smile showing his teeth. "Go out with me, Icarus."

Hermione, surprised by his allusion to Greek Mythology, didn't even fully catch what he was suggesting. "What?"  
Malfoy turned his smile into a smirk and set her down gently on the bottom rung of the ladder. "You heard me. Go out with me."

Hermione's brain kicked into overdrive. Her thoughts were swirling faster than a torrential hurricane, uprooting ideas and sending expectations flying in the wind. The implications of what he was asking, after he had kissed her, no less, were gigantic. Her typhoon of thoughts grew bigger and bigger until she caught sight of his face. Draco was looking incredibly nervous and rejected, and was backing away slowly. The wind in her mind died down suddenly, and she was met with a resolution quieter than the eye of a storm.

"Draco?"

Her voice stopped his retreat, and he turned to face her sharply. "What?" His voice was harsh and upset, but Hermione didn't know if she had ever liked him more than at this vulnerable moment.

A lopsided smile spread across her face. "Okay."

* * *

Well that's it for today. What did you think? Please review, I would love some feedback for this story!


	9. The Question Game

Well, this is penultimate chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

* * *

"Let's play a game," suggested Hermione, kicking her legs aimlessly.

She and Draco were sitting on a wooden bench on the hill that overlooked the Shrieking Shack. The first Hogsmeade trip of the spring had dawned cold and grey, but soon faded into warm sunshine and cool breezes. The trees, their tips turing green with the expectance of summer, swayed and danced and made friends with their towering woodland neighbours. The Shrieking Shack was as foreboding as always. Dark shadows of the trees shimmered in the wind around the little house, casting gloom over the vernal day on the other side of the tall, magically reenforced fence. Hermione, however, was not scared of the shack—she had seen that house for what it was. Nothing but old wood and bad memories.

"What game?" Draco asked, tracing the grain of the wood beneath him. He and Hermione had just left The Three Broomsticks and Flourish and Blots. There they had enjoyed pleasant conversation, butterbeer, wizarding comic books, and watching Goyle try to read while they were hidden in between the bookshelves. Hermione held a small pot of ink in her hands, a present from Malfoy. The ink was a brilliant green that he had insisted on purchasing for her. "It matches my ties perfectly, doesn't it?" He had proclaimed.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. A question game."

He cocked his head, as if deep in thought. "Alright. We ask each other questions, and you have to answer them truthfully."

Her ears perked up. "And you have to answer the question you ask as well, does that sound good?"

"Yes. I get to go first. He rubbed his hands togethers conspiratorially, a mischievous smile on his face.

Hermione swallowed audibly. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

Noticing her discomfort, Malfoy just grinned wider. "We'll start off simple," he said, a schadenfreude-ish glint in his eyes. "What's your favourite thing to do? Besides read all those swotty books you like."

She had the tact to look mildly affronted. "That's not all I do, you know."

"Then what do you do?"

* * *

"What's something totally disgusting that you like?" Draco asked her. They were sitting closer together now, their hands almost brushing. Hermione found that she couldn't complain.

After a moment's thought, she blushed. "I like the blood-flavoured lollies they sell at Honeydukes," admitted Hermione

"Oh you little vampire," he murmured.

"Oh stop!" Hermione laughed and fired the question back at him. "What's something disgusting that _you _like?"

Malfoy sniffed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I don't like anything disgusting."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you do. Everybody does."

Draco scoffed, but his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well I certainly don't!"

"Liar."

"What?"

"You're a liar. You must like something that's gross."

"Well…I do happen to like…"

"…Go on."

"I like those muggle biscuits. What are those called? The shortbread ones with the jam in the middle."

"Jammie Dodgers?" Hermione laughed. "Those aren't disgusting! My family loves them!"

Draco looked surprised. "I didn't know anybody liked those!"

"They're very popular in the Muggle World. People can't get enough of them. Where did you get them?"

"Tracey Davis brought them back from Christmas hols one year. She made all of us try one."

Hermione smiled and grabbed his hand casually. "Hah, maybe you have an affinity for Muggle snacks, Slytherin boy."

Draco flipped his hand and interlaced their fingers. "Not a chance, Gryffindor girl."

They sat for a moment in silence before Hermione came up with another question. "Do you have a favourite school memory?"

Malfoy immediately smiled. "Oh, definitely. Do you go to Quidditch matches?"

"Only the Gryffyndor ones," she admitted sheepishly

"Oh, well, one time, in third year, we were playing Ravenclaw right before Christmas break. I was up against that Chang girl—she rode a Comet Two-Sixty," he scoffed. "And after we had been playing for a while, Chang and I got into a bit of a spat while up in the air. I said something incredibly witty, I suppose, and right as she was grasping for a retort, I saw the snitch behind her. We were pretty close, I'd say about a metre apart, and, taking a chance, I pushed my broom down and jumped up at the same time. I sailed forward, and clear over Chang's head! My broom flew forward, but underneath her. I caught the snitch deftly and landed on my broom not a second later. It was the catch of the century, I'm sure!"

Even though Hermione didn't know much about Quidditch, she was positive that that was impressive. "How come I never heard about that?" she asked, smiling at his triumphant, and slightly boyish, grin.

"Potter was probably scared with the competition." He dusted imaginary dirt off of his shoulder, and Hermione knocked into him playfully.

She had felt like they had warmed up enough for her to ask a question she had been dying to know the answer to. "Why did you switch so easily?"

His face fogged with confusion and he stopped smiling. "Switch?"

"From their side to the good side." She clarified.

He thought for a moment before grinning slightly. "You know, there came a point that I realised I was fighting for the wrong side. And when I thought about it, if the Dark Lord had really wanted to kill Potter the night the spell didn't work, why didn't he just—I don't know, throw him out their second story window?"

"You know, Voldemort lost his strength right after that." Hermione pointed out.

Draco was quick to answer. "He grew up around muggles, so why didn't he think to stab Potter in the stomach or smother him with a pillow? He was an infant, you see what I mean? I mean, what a bloody useless muppet!"

She was stunned by his answer, so much so that she burst out into peals laughter.

He joined in tentatively a second later, thought better of it, and let out carefree chuckles that swept across the grounds.

* * *

As the sun began to set behind the shack, Draco and Hermione got up off their bench and began to walk back to the school. She was pleasantly surprised to find that their hands were still interlocked, even as they came in sight of other students on some of the busier streets.

Just as the pair stopped under the clock tower, Draco pulled Hermione aside from the doors into a small alcove. Hermione looked up, high above their heads, to the top of the tower—remembering the night in that tower, nearly a month ago, when Draco had helped her forget her nightmares by taking her to Aberforth and the pensive.

Draco leaned against the wall, and Hermione followed suit. "We could just stay out all night," he suggested. "Maybe go to Diagon Alley or a Quidditch match. I hear the Hollyhead Harpies are playing tonight."

Hermione smiled and teased him lightly. "You know, if I didn't think you were a bit dishy, I'd have you expelled."

"Thank Merlin for good looks, then."

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his chin. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but bent his head as she reached up to kiss him lightly.

* * *

Ooooh. Things are getting serious!

What did you think?


	10. Things Are Tied Together

We're at the end! A few weeks, maybe a month or two, has passed since the last chapter, and Draco and Hermione are dating—but in secret of course! I have to keep this interesting somehow :D

This one is huge, thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

Please enjoy the end!

* * *

After Potions class, Harry and Ron accompanied Hermione down the hall until she needed to go down the opposite corridor to Advanced Ancient Runes. They called their farewells and she returned them.

She whistled as she strolled down the corridor. For once, she decided to take Malfoy's rather annoyingly persistent advice to "lighten up" and decided she was going to enjoy the day despite her hard classes. Finals were a while off, she had aced all her term exams, and she was good shape for the end of the year.

Just as she was contemplating a walk by the lake after lunch, she was suddenly, and very impolitely, she might add, yanked by her collar behind a large granite statue of an old, in someway accomplished, wizard. She cried out in alarm and dropped her books all over the floor as she seemed to fly through the air and into the arms of a certain blond someone.

"Malfoy!" She protested heatedly. As he wrapped his wiry arms around her waist, she tried to push them off, but to no avail, she was stuck. Not that she was necessarily minding all that much, that is. "You scared me to death!" she shrieked as quietly as she could, she could hear students passing the statue the were hidden behind.

He just smiled infuriatingly smugly, like always. "It's great to see you too, Granger," he replied smoothly.

The more she pushed at his ribs, the tighter he gripped her in his embrace. "I've been missing you," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear as he kissed her temple gradually and tenderly.

"I have too," she relented, giving up that much, but still trying to push away. "But not here, somebody could see us!" she added with a gasp, realising the truth behind her statement. _What if someone came by and let the secret out?! Harry and Ron would _kill_ me if I didn't tell them before they found out on their own, _she grasped, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Malfoy saw the fret in her eyes and smiled affectionately, placing another slow kiss on her cheek. "You know, I really don't care," he whispered.

She looked at him quizzically and apprehensively for a moment, but then he was looking at her full on in the eyes and she could do nothing but surrender to his sincerity and look at him back, letting a smile through her lips. As soon as she smiled, he bent down and kissed her softly for a few seconds.

As soon as Draco realised that he wanted to kiss her forever, he pulled back, worried by his own emotions. According to his father and Slytherin counterparts, he was not allowed to have these…emotions. Unless the emotion was anger, pride, disdain or discrimination, it was off limits. "Hey Granger, take it easy," he drawled pushing her back by her petite shoulders. "Somebody could see us," he finished, enjoying the look of supreme annoyance Hermione shot at him as he loped down the hallway and to his next class. _At least things won't ever get boring, _he smiled to himself.

* * *

"Class is going to start any second now!" Hermione scolded Draco even as she pulled away from his arms for the umpteenth time that morning. They had spent their free period out at the lake right by the edge of the forbidden forest where nobody would see them. Each time she got up to go to class, Malfoy, the distracting little wally that he was, kept getting her to stay.

Since the first time she had told him that she needed to get to class, he had diverted her attention, first by kissing her, then by picking at her tie until it came undone and then by placing it right next to his already shirked fetter.

"But Granger, class isn't going to start for another few minutes, you can always run if worst comes to worst." He leaned to capture her lips once more, but this time, she fully stepped out of his arms and slung her book bag over her shoulder.

"No Malfoy, I need to go now. I can't be late for Muggle Studies again," she murmured, taking a frazzled glance at the castle.

"Why do you even take that rubbish class Granger? It's such a waste for someone as brilliant as you," Malfoy grumbled, buttoning up the top of his shirt that he had loosed upon shedding his tie.

"Flattery isn't going to make me stay, but thank you," Hermione ignored the pink tinge to her cheeks as she grabbed her tie and put it on while running up the hill to the front doors. With one fleeting glance back at Draco, she knotted her tie and rushed to her class.

* * *

Muggle Studies passed quickly with only a few strange looks from some surrounding Hufflepuffs, but it was not anything she wasn't already used to, being a war hero and all.

She was immensely glad when the bell tolled and she was allowed to go to lunch. It had been a long, yet still enjoyable day, and she was ready to sit down at the library and reread the chapter on changing moving objects into teakettles before Transfiguration later that afternoon.

Collapsing on the bench in the Great Hall next to Harry, she pulled out her Transfiguration book (no use in wasting lunch), and was halfway through her bread roll before she noticed the silence that seemed to press in on all sides from her friends.

"What's that around your neck 'Mione?" Ron asked, his voice coloured with concern.

"You mean my tie? In case you haven't noticed, you're wearing one as well." She snipped, far too immersed in her book and bread to even look up at Ron. And, the desire to see him shovel down his food down like a heathen didn't strike a truthful chord inside her either.

"No, seriously, what is that? It doesn't look like _your _tie." Harry proclaimed, Hermione glanced up and just barely caught the wary looks her best mates where exchanging behind her back.

Hermione scoffed. "Don't be silly it's—" she stopped mid-sentence in shock. Just then, she looked down and was met with an awful sight. Knotted around her neck was a radiant green and silver, striped Slytherin tie. She instantly squeezed her eyes shut as if not seeing it would make it go away, but her childlike hope was in vain as it was still there around her neck when she peeked her eyelids open again

"The tie is much to long for you anyways," Harry commented, but sudden realisation and horror glinted in his eyes. "Does it belong to a boy?"

"Whoa, Hermione's got a Slytherin lover!" Ron cried out, going so far as to clatter his fork down on his plate and throw his hands up in the air. From next to Ron, Neville Longbottom glanced over, eyes wide.

"No! I don't, don't be silly." Hermione protested feebly and raised her hands to cover the cloth fetter.

Some of the kids from the other tables looked over at the scene Ron was making, and thankfully, one of them was Malfoy. _Draco_! Hermione mouthed with significant exaggeration, and fortunately, she caught his eye.

Without a word, he raised a platinum blond eyebrow.

She tried mouthing more words to him, but he didn't seem to understand. Finally giving up, she lifted her hands and mimed tightening her tie.

Curious, he looked down at his own chest, a red and gold banded tie manifested plainly and proudly in the hollow of his collar. She saw his eyes go almost comically wide, as they met hers fretfully. If she hadn't been so mortified, she would have laughed at the sight. It looked like Malfoy had seen a ghost. He was almost as pale as one too.

She nodded her head grimly while he mouthed, "What do we do?"

She shrugged simply, turning her attention back to Ron and Harry.

"Ooh, are you talking to your Slytherin boyfriend?" Ron cooed to Hermione just as Harry started to scan the Slytherin table.

"He must be wearing your tie!" Ron's accomplice stated.

Malfoy must have heard Harry's statement, as he fully understood what was silently urged by Hermione next. "Go, go, go, go, go!" Was her mantra as he pushed his hardly touched plate of supper to the side.

Eyes still wide, Draco slipped out of his seat inconspicuously and disappeared out of the Great Hall. True to his sneaky nature, only one pair of eyes watched him disappear.

"Oh come on, 'Mione, just tell us who he—and she's gone." Ron's voice dropped in energy at the evaporation of the girl. There was not even a trace of her left.

Harry looked contemplative when Ron turned to him, eyebrows raised. Taking a deep breath, Harry voiced his opinions. "Maybe she really is dating a Slytherin, she wouldn't have ran like that if it wasn't true."

Instantly, Ron was in action. "She can't have gone that far since we noticed she was gone, let's go!"

"That was so so close, that can't happen again," Hermione breathed as she stopped just down the corridor from the Great Hall, next to Draco. She dropped her rucksack on the granite stones and started to loosen the necktie still clasped around her collar.

"How long do we have to keep this a secret?" Malfoy's voice was shaded with sorrow and hurt, something that was not lost on Hermione.

She sighed softly, her heart dancing pleasantly in her chest. She stepped closer and placed a soft hand in his shoulder, her face just coming even with the bridge of his nose. "Just until I find a way to tell Harry and Ron, I don't want to hurt them or make them angry," she soothed as gently as she could.

"Okay," the boy surrendered, regretful.

Their moment was snapped as Hermione diverted back to her nothing-but-business attitude. "Let's get these ties switched, before they decide it would be a good idea to follow me out here."

Draco looked surprised, if not slightly enamoured. "Wait, did you sneak out?"

She turned her eyes to the floor, slightly embarrassed. "I took a page from your book," she muttered.

Suddenly, his arms were around her waist, tightly bringing her in close. "You know Granger, I like you even more in green," he whispered, lightly touching his nose to her temple.

She tried to muster her meanest glare even as her skin tingled and her heart fluttered in her ribcage.

Malfoy smirked, obviously seeing her reaction. "I'm serious, Slytherin is definitely your colour."

At that, Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he swooped down to kiss her just then. He caught her in a quick, yet fierce snog that melted slowly into their normal, closed mouth variety.

"Blooming nora!"

"'Mione what are you doing?!"

Hermione pulled back instantly and looked over to find Harry and Ron standing in the middle of corridor, shoulders heaving, mouths panting and eyes burning.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione pretended to act surprised, pleased and innocent, but it faded into dread by the end. "Hullo."

Malfoy sniggered at her quickly, but pulled away from her to stand proudly in front of her. "Alright," his voice was stern and unmoving, adopting the no-nonsense tone Hermione used when she was totally exasperated with his antics. "Listen you manky pillocks, she's mine, and that's how it's going to go."

Ron immediately turned beet red. In his rage, he up and slugged Draco in the face, hard. Malfoy returned with a punch of his own, which caused Harry to jump in, resulting in a full-on, hand to hand scuffle right in the middle of the hallway.

"Oh no you don't!" Hermione screeched, louder than was necessary. "Fifteen points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin for such ridiculous mindless violence." When the fighting didn't stop completely, she made a rash proclamation. "The person who throws the next punch is detention for three weeks with Headmaster McGonagall!"

There was immediate silence. Nobody in their right mind would ask for a detention with McGonagall when she was still repairing the school to it's former state. She was a right nightmare these days.

Using a significantly softer, yet still iron-firm voice, Hermione continued. "Harry, Ron, go back to the Common Room this instant. I'll deal with you later." When they didn't immediately comply, Hermione reverted back to shouting. "That's an order boys!"

Once the injury sporting seventh years packed up and scampered off, Hermione turned to her boyfriend. "You are a monumental _berk _did you know that?"

He had the nerve to feign a look of contrition. "Hey, at least I broke the news to them."

Not impressed, Hermione placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. "And now I have to fix it."

"Well," the Slytherin sighed, "let's put that off and you can clean me up instead."

"Fine, but we'll do it my way."

Draco raised a suggestive eyebrow. "And what's your way?" He questioned with a

sultry slide to her side.

Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Give me your rucksack and follow me."

Not miffed by her bossy tone, he paraded through the walkway right behind her.

Hermione stopped in alcove farther away from the main hall than they had been before. Once Draco followed her inside, she quickly transfigured his book bag into a Muggle first aid kit.

Ordering him to sit on the floor beside her, she took inventory of his injuries. He modelled a slightly split lip, a black eye and small cut over his cheekbone. She first studied his eyes to make sure that the pupils were the same size, ensuring that he did not have a concussion, and then moved to open the first aid kit next to her. She pulled out the rubbing alcohol and a soft rag.

"You know, you could fix me up really easily with a wave of your wand," Malfoy complained, looking distrustfully at the acrid smelling, clear liquid she was dabbing onto the rag.

"You know," Hermione retorted, "there are some things that are just better in the Muggle World. Common first aid just happens to be one of them. And you'll get to keep the pain for longer to remind yourself why you don't retaliate in a fight with my best mates. Now come over and stop pouting, you wimp."

He scowled and scooted over to her, so much so that their knees and shins were touching. After warning him about the stinging, she cleaned the cuts on his lip and his cheek and tried to block out his incessant whingeing. She then placed a cleaning charm and then a freezing charm on the rag she had used for the alcohol. She commanded him to place it over his eye and they both sat back into the corner of the alcove. It was quiet all around them, with the exception of the string of swearing Malfoy was still letting off from the rubbing alcohol incident.

After a few minutes though, things were hushed absolutely. Hermione wondered how much of Transfiguration she was missing by being out in the hallways, but for some strange reason, a rebellious drive perhaps, she didn't want to go. _Oh wait, I know the reason. And he's right next to me,_ Hermione thought dryly to herself.

It was then that Hermione fully grasped the fact that Draco was soundless.

"Problem, Malfoy?" She inquired, nudging his shoulder gently.

There was pained, yet disgusted look on his face as he answered. He almost looked nauseated. "I didn't mean to make things hard for you, you know. And to make it worse, there's this odd feeling inside the pit of my stomach, I don't know what it is, I've never felt it before."

Hermione chuckled affectionately as she brushed her fingers through the fringe that framed his face. "It's called guilt. You're sorry about it."

Draco scoffed. "That's bunk. Malfoy's don't have a conscience enough to incite guilt."

Hermione leaned on his shoulder tranquilly and placed her hand over his heart. "Well I found a conscience somewhere in there." After a pause, she continued softly. "And I'm not mad at you, not really. At least you got the hard part over with. Saved me the big tough words." She finished optimistically.

He turned to look at her then. "And you're not mad that I called you 'mine'? I thought you were going to go spare at that one."

The corners of her mouth quirked up charmingly. "I was thinking about yelling at you for that one, then I decided that I wouldn't be too unhappy if I were yours," she confessed, looking down at the stones beneath her. She didn't want to see his reaction to her statement.

Though she didn't see, she could _hear_ him smile as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. He looked a bit nervous, but it comforted Hermione all the same. "Good, because I'm yours too. All of me."

She stared back into his hardened grey eyes and leant in towards him, yielding to the soft strength of his kiss, that engulfed her, gaining in strength until she found herself wrapped up in him, heart and soul.

He pulled away and looked at her once more, cryptically yet lovingly, then he sighed deeply.

"Problem, Malfoy?" Hermione inquired with a grin, echoing her words from only moments before.

"Just _you, _Granger," he smirked back.

* * *

The End! Please tell me how you liked it! I have another project that I'm starting to get ready for posting, and I would love some encouragement to keep going!

Thanks for reading. And stay classy!


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